the caravan jostles as it passes over a rock, the steady ride of the cart occasionally bumping over obstacles. A red headed mercenary sits across from you, steadying herself as well. You can only assume she’s been hired the same as you, to protect the caravan from monsters or bandits. A pike sits halfway in her lap. You look back out the rear of the carriage, it’s flaps jostling along in the night breeze.

you feel a nudge at your foot and look up

“Don’t talk too much, do you?” she says